


Water, water, water

by Devilinthebox (princegrisejoie)



Category: Death Note
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Bathing/Washing, Body Image, Demisexuality, Eating Disorders, Hair Washing, Illustrated, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Yotsuba Arc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-13
Updated: 2015-02-13
Packaged: 2018-03-12 05:54:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3345989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/princegrisejoie/pseuds/Devilinthebox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the bath, they forget they’re a detective and a suspect; they remove these identities along with their clothes, layer by layer until there are only the handcuffs left. And them; facing the other in the eerie calmness of their bathroom.<br/>At least, it’s how Light sees it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Water, water, water

**Author's Note:**

> Mash up of many requests: 1) Lawlight bathing 2) Lawlight hair washing 3) Light has an eating disorder 4) L used to occasionally do drugs with B & A (à la Sherlock Holmes) 5) Light struggles with his sexuality (demisexual/homoromantic here)
> 
> Thank you for your unwavering support, I don't know if you realise what it means to me but...I read every comment and notice every kudos with a stupid smile on my face.  
> Thanks to Lex and many people on tumblr for the prompts ~ I apologise for the lazy summary.

_I loved you, so I drew these tides of men into my hands / and wrote my will across the sky in stars_ (T.E Lawrence)

* * *

 

They say you have to think before you speak and Light finds this easy enough. There is something very natural in the way he conforms to what is expected of him. It’s the only thing he never had to work for. Although he might compete with L in intelligence, he is not a natural genius. He worked his way to the top. Every single of his natural talent has been perfected. Except for courtesies; it’s as if he never had to learn you have to smile and say hello and sit straight. Some may say it’s because he was gifted in such a way that he became a hypocrite.

Light knows about polite smiles and posture but nobody ever said anything about stolen glances. It's as if they don't exist in the world of sycophants, liars and schemers. A stolen look from Light Yagami tells more about him that any other rehearsed gesture. If asked, he would probably say it doesn't matter how you look at someone as long as nobody sees _you_.

In case you are caught off-guard, well, you can always pretend nothing happened. That's what everyone does.

Light catches a glimpse of L's arm in the shower. He tells himself it’s just bad luck, but it’s such a blatant lie even he can’t believe it. So, he settles for curiosity. Yes, he allowed his glance to slide towards L; towards L’s naked body. It’s not his fault. Those who live shrouded in mystery are bound to attract unwanted interest, after all.

Still, something bothers him. L has no idea Light just broke one of the rules that they silently agreed on. He is not quite certain he wants to live as a voyeur. For a minute, Light considers confessing his crime to L. Then, he pictures L's response and all he can think of is a smirk. _Don't apologize for leering at me, Light kun. Isn't this a compliment?_

That's why Light doesn't confess. That, and he tells himself that L probably broke the rule already without telling him. Light escapes his responsibility with the usual talent. Except, for once, he feels sorry for himself. A glimpse of L’s arm turns him into some love-wrecked teenager. It’s just pathetic, isn’t it? L is all sharp angles; not one feminine curve to make him forget. Pathetic and _immoral_.

Plus, it‘s bound to end badly. Does that mean they're allowed to spy on the other in the shower as long as it goes unnoticed? Is it one of these unspoken agreements married couples make all the time? Granted it usually revolves around unpleasant side effects of marriage, like adultery; not lusting secretly after the other.

L's voice snaps Light out of his reverie.

"You’re silent. I thought we agreed not to wait outside while the other showers so we could talk."

Light realises he has been careless and straighten up. He sits on the floor, his back against the bathroom's wall, while L is still in the shower.

"I'm sorry. I was thinking, maybe this is a bad idea after all."

"Why? Did I make you feel uncomfortable?" L asks, and Light detects a trace of concern in his tone. The shower spray should make it hard to hear, but Light could pick L’s beautiful voice in a sea of thousands. Some collects pearls; Light treasures the slightest modulations in L’s voice. He keeps every single of them dearly in his memory.

“You seem rather preoccupied these days," L continues, unaware he’s 90% of the reason Light spaces out more often now.

“I’m not," Light lies. He’s always worried – he lives with the everlasting fear he might do something wrong creeping in the back of his mind. Perfection is a burden to those who believe it exists and see it fit to pursue it.

L still has his back to him when he answers:

“You wouldn’t know. It’s something you’ve learnt to live with; you don’t notice it. It doesn’t mean it’s healthy. It’s never healthy to get used to pain.”

It’s tempting to confide in L, but Light doesn’t have that courage in him.

“What are you talking about?” he asks, in a tone of affected disbelief instead. His eyes are fixed on L’s; Light offers them for him to read.

It’s as if he sensed that, because he looks over his shoulder to stare at him. Light tries to focus, a shiver trails across his spine.

His self-control is hanging by a thread these days. How is he supposed to trust his own mind when a handful of his memories inexplicably went missing? Still, he has to protect the façade.

L isn’t helping much. _He’s not that good-looking. He’s not beautiful. No, he’s better. He’s better._

“You starve yourself when you’re nervous. You’re a very nervous person,” he says, getting off the shower stall.

“You really do notice everything,” Light answers in a breath. He carefully avoids looking at L; he cannot waver – the moment he does is the moment he won’t be able to stop staring. Years of efforts would go to waste.

He kids himself into thinking it’s not internalized homophobia; it’s truly wonderful that some people want to live like that. Good for them to indulge in that sort of pleasures. As for him, he can’t disappoint. What do desires mean, in the eyes of _duty_?

L wraps himself in a bathrobe.

“Don’t punish yourself. You don’t deserve it.”

“You believe that now? That I don’t deserve to be punished?” Light says, his tone laced with resentment and a hint of frustration.

At least, L doesn’t seem to be judging him.

“It’s not what I think that matters here. You believe in your innocence, don’t you? And you have nothing to hate yourself for.”

“I never hated myself. If anything, I tend to believe –“

“You trust your wits. Your intelligence is not _you_. Your body is not an image, it’s not for others to enjoy. It’s a part of you. You know that, right?”

Light’s eyes meet L’s and he feels slightly less anxious.

“I do. It doesn’t happen that often. And I don’t do it on purpose. It’s just - sometimes I don’t forget about that kind of needs, you know. I have so many things to do. You don’t have to care -”

“Don’t throw yourself away. That’s all.”

They don’t broach the subject of Light’s eating habits again. They don’t have to.

*

Now they take baths. There is something soothing in letting the water swallow both their bodies. Light feels he could drown in this soapy smell of raspberries and honey; it’s as if time had stopped. They forget they’re a detective and a suspect; they remove these identities along with their clothes, layer by layer until there are only the handcuffs left. And them; facing the other in the eerie calmness of their bathroom.

At least, it’s how Light sees it. He says it to L – not everything, but something along these lines, without knowing why. He wants to share that dreamy feeling with him; be assured that he is not alone in this.

L answers something strange and vaguely disturbing, claiming baths are a substitute for the mother’s womb. He should have predicted L would not confide anything. Light gives a faint smile that says _I knew you’d say that_. L understands.

They appreciate the silence for a while. Light is grateful that L does not fidget too much; he’d hate to be staring again. As it is, he can only see his upper body, thankGod for bubble-baths _._ Although, seeing the incredible sharpness of L’s shoulder blades, Light doubts it’s a relief after all.

He turns his gaze away from L’s pale shoulders, carefully avoids meeting his jaw and focuses on his face instead. Wonderful time to notice how different his features look with his hair pulled back. If L’s features seemed angular before, now Light longs to skim his fingers on his cheekbones just to _feel_ how sharp they are.

“You’re staring,” L’s voice is calm, yet it holds note of child-like excitement. Light ignores the heat moving up to his face. For a fraction of a second, he feels as if L were a sadistic teacher whose test he just failed. _You’re overthinking,_ Light thinks _, he’s just not used to people looking at him like that._

It occurs to him how lonely an existence as the greatest detective on earth must be; he understands that all too well. He lets him have a taste of that victory.

Everything is subtext, of course. He lets L win, but he will not hear anything from Light’s mouth.

“I wasn’t staring," Light says. He resists making any more excuses.

 “No justification? So you _were_ staring.”

L gets it. L will always get it. L can see through his lies with unsettling ease. Light feels his lips curve against his will, in spite of the feeling of anxiety twisting in his stomach.

He could read L just as easily, once. He is determined to remember how.

“Do you want me to wash your hair?” Light tries.

It’s worth a shot. L raises an eyebrow at that. “Why?”

He always wants to know everything. Rightfully so. They stripped off their clothes and share a bath; the investigation hasn’t stopped. Light holds a sigh.

“Just let me do it. Take a leap of faith," he almost pleads.

He hates Kira for standing between them. L wouldn’t hesitate, if it wasn’t for him. He resents Kira for keeping L away from him.

For a moment, Light is certain L is going to say no. He has a polite answer prepared and knows how is voice is going to sound.

But L nods. “Alright.”

Light eyes him as if he had just been granted a wish and L can’t help but smile at his almost childlike enthusiasm.

Light doesn’t see it; he’s already reaching for the strawberry shampoo.

“No, not this one," L tells him, “Use yours.” 

“Why?” Light asks, a flicker of pride passing across his features.

“I love the smell. I noticed I slept better the nights I rest my head close to your hair.”

L’s expression is deadpan but there is a glint of an unexpected emotion in his eyes. Light believes it to be affection or eagerness. Either way, it moves him.

Light knows he’d better answer now but nothing seems good enough and his mouth has gone dry. He squirts a ridiculous amount of shampoo into the palm of his hand and gets to work.

He starts massaging shampoo into L’s surprisingly soft hair. Light’s hands slide from the roots and make their way down, as he realises how long it actually is.

He never touched anyone’s hair but his – it’s an incredible feeling. Perhaps it’s just because it’s L. Light feels his heartbeat decreasing in tempo and for a moment, he wonders what he had been so anxious about. He stares at L, whose eyes are closed, with nothing but awe.

“You’re enjoying this," Light blurts out. It’s a statement.

And then L ruins Light’s newfound composure. He lets out a sound that dangerously resembles a whimper. Light wants to slam his body against the bathtub to make him stop. But it would only be worse, so he pretends he didn’t hear anything, his head pounding slightly.

“Ah, you were right, it does feel _good_. You’re pretty skilled at this.”

Light blinks back images of L whispering the same words, in a whole other context. He tips L’s head back and sluices hot water over his hair. L lets him do it without a protest. Light wishes someone would do the same to him right now, only with _cold_ water.

“Thank you, Light-kun,” L says after, sliding his fingers through his hair, pulling them back.

Light gazes at L as if he has only just met him. It’s not that he looks like another person, on the contrary. Light feels he sees L naked for the first time – it’s not just a matter of how many layers of _clothes_ you’re wearing. Light, of all people, ought to know that. He snaps out his reverie, looking down nervously.

His glance meets L’s arms again and that’s how he notices the marks. He considers, for a second, not mentioning it. Then he hears L’s own voice in the back of his mind. _I do care._

He has to, at least, try.

 “L…”

“Ryûzaki," he corrects.

At any other moment, Light would have rolled his eyes.

“Don’t feel obligated to answer,” he tells L instead

“It’s a good start," L says, a smirk playing on his lips.  

Light is tempted to change the subject and ask him why he is such a tease, all the time. It would be simple; but then…he doesn’t want to take the easy way out.

He musters up all his courage, breathes.

“…What are those?” He gestures towards the marks on L’s inner elbow. It looks like tiny bites, as if a colony of minuscule mosquitoes had been sucking his blood for weeks. Light is revolted by the idea of anything foreign and dangerous running through L’s veins.

“I’m sure you have several ideas," L’s voice is thin but nevertheless sure of itself.

Light is taken back for a moment. “You want me to _guess_?”

L is holding Light’s gaze almost desperately, as if he dreads what will happen if he allows himself to show the slightest hint of weakness.

“Why not? We can make a game out of this.”

“I don’t want to," Light blurts out. “This is not something we should be laughing about”

L’s lips curve into a faint smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. He doesn’t look away as he admits:

“You could say I was speaking from experience, the other day. It didn’t last long, but I neglected my body because I couldn’t deal with – well, let’s just say I drifted into recreational drug use. It was rather occasional; still, I wouldn’t say it had no consequences.”

“But _Watari_ …”

“It was a strange time in our lives. I can’t tell you any details but…Watari had to leave me for a year, somewhere else. And the adults who were supposed to watch over us…they weren’t nearly as perceptive as him. It wasn’t my idea. But I was arrogant and childish – it was easy to convince me addiction was something that only happens to others. Well, thankfully Watari came back before it got too serious. He took good care of me and I am forever in his debt. I couldn’t hide anything from him.”

Light nods. “Of course, he’s like a father to you.”

“Yes…” He pauses, a strange expression crossing his face. “I started relaxation exercises in the aftermath of that…incident. And – well, I didn’t eat nearly as much sugar before. I needed something else. I guess constant craving is in my nature.”

Just as the mere idea of failure terrifies Light, L lives in the permanent, nagging fear of lacking something.

Light places a hand on his shoulder, “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be. It’s my fault. I was supposed to be the responsible one and I let some…fragile people down.”

“What do you mean?”

For the first time, L looks down at the water. “I wasn’t just endangering myself. I should have protected them.”

“You can’t protect people from themselves.”

“Oh, that’s what you believe?” L snaps, throwing him a piercing glance.

“Well, you can always try, I suppose…” Light’s voice trails off. He has no idea what to say. It never happens.

L’s eyes go round. “You don’t believe in saving those weaker than you?”

“That’s not it. I’m just saying, sometimes it might not be worth it. You’re just going to hurt yourself in the process," Light answers, surprised by his own honesty. “Some people will always need your help; that doesn’t mean you have to reach out for them every time.”

L glares at him. “Careful. Someday, you might regret that one.”

Light shakes his head. “I might have phrased this wrong. I meant you should take care of yourself before helping others.”

“That’s very nice of you to comfort me," L answers, his voice notably colder. “I prefer to warn you, though. This is not a winning strategy. You won’t get under my skin like that, Light.”

He could as well have called him Kira.

L pulls himself out of the tub and wraps himself in a bathsuit, as he always does after a bath. Light wishes he could stay in the water but he’s still chained to L, and Kira is sleeping in the back of his mind, apparently.

 _He gets you but he can’t see you,_ Light realises, heart sinking. Frustration and sorrow stir in the pit of his stomach. He practically doesn’t eat until the next bath and throw himself in his work so nobody notices it.

 _Of course_ , L notices it, as he sees everything, even Kira in the slightest of his moves.

The memory of that bath is wedged into Light’s side like a dagger; despite his efforts, he wasn’t enough, all L could see was Kira, trying to drown him, poison him with a voice sweet as honey and assert his power over both their bodies.

*

It takes two weeks and too many silent showers for them to take a bath again. There is nothing really soothing about it, but they don’t quarrel either. They talk much longer than usual, as if to avoid doing something else. Light kids himself that there is nothing else they could be doing.

L talks about his favourite piece of poetry. Perhaps, it’s T.E Lawrence, or Baudelaire. Light can’t focus. All he knows is that it’s not a lie. He senses it.

Somewhere in the middle of L’s sentence, Light forgets about Kira’s existence. It’s as if a terrible weight has been lifted from his shoulders. Is it this incredible relief that gives him the courage to lean forward? He knows he’s the only one to blame. It doesn’t feel as bad as he expected.

He grabs L’s wrist and feels the warmth of his body, his pulse. He looks up and notices the blood now rushing to his pale face. It comforts Light. He feels less alone in this.

Light pulls L against him and then, unsure what to do, he buries his head in his neck and whispers against his skin: “I wanted to comfort you. I never –“

“Light," L breathes. He sounds as if he is fighting against something very powerful; some menacing beast, threatening to swallow him whole.

_Why can’t we hide under the water forever?_

It doesn’t take much more than that. The next moment, Light’s hands are cupping L’s head, L’s hands latching on to Light’s shoulders. L blinks as he is pulled into one unforgettable kiss.

There is nothing left except them and the distant sound of the handcuffs slithering in the water.

Light feels L’s body trembling against him, and he wonders if he feels guilty. No, he doesn’t, that’s not it. He is afraid but he _fights_ against it. Each of Light’s caresses is a threat to his investigation. Still, resisting it would be admitting he can be defeated. He kisses Light back, hungered and determined.

And it’s so logical that they’re doing this in the water because he is overwhelmed by L, by everything he is; he drowns in the mystery of him, doesn’t want him to stop touching him ever, even if it hurts, even if it kills him, as lovers of the sea sometimes wish it swallowed them whole.

It’s a kiss, it’s nothing, but it drains him like…He feels the heat climbing to his face. The kiss has to break, at some point. L doesn’t let go of him. He tucks his head into Light’s neck and breathes against him, his fingers trailing on Light’s arching back.

Everything in Light dies, except for his heart – the only thing he can feel. It’s loud and unbearable and it wants everyone to be aware of its presence.

“I can hear your heart beating from up there,” L whispers against his skin.

That’s it. He will never be able to talk again. L places one last kiss on the edge of his jaw; Light doesn’t know who to thank for his own low libido. He’s certain he would have given up otherwise.

Light finds his voice, ultimately. All he can say is: “I won’t regret that. I’m not lying.”

L understands, like he always does. Always will.

“I know when you tell the truth.”

It’s unfinished; but it doesn’t matter. L’s long, pale, fingers met his skin. _Finally_ , it’s not just stolen looks and forbidden hopes. It’s real now. Light will feel his touch on his skin every hour of every day, for a long time.

  
([please check khakisnorgle's art](http://khakisnorgle.tumblr.com/post/131312402432/water-water-water-capitaineblackbird-i-wanted))


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